Violence Child Poems | Violence Poems About Child

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Details | Rhyme |

The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child

The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child
Each day the pattern was the same, for all Dad’s shortcomings, my Mom got the blame. WHACK! He cursed her for all his lost dreams… WHACK! For missed opportunities, and failed schemes. WHACK! Dad would hit his punching bag again, to release all his pent-up frustration and pain.
When he felt inadequate and couldn’t cope with life, he resorted to battering Mom, his “beloved” wife. Of course, it was always her fault that things were bad; so he made her suffer for all the troubles he had. Inflicting her with insults, black-eyes, concussions, and cuts, he claimed that she deserved them because she was like all sluts.
Craftily he played on her bully-enforced meekness, getting down on his knees to beg for her forgiveness. Moods swinging like a pendulum from night to day, his promises were empty - he would never change his vile ways. Predictably, he continued to torment her as he pleased, degrading and abusing her…he never ceased.
He figured low self-esteem would prevent Mom from leaving; and that she was a nobody, he really had her believing. He was oh so convinced that needed audacity she lacked, to ever think of opposing him, or of fighting him back. Besides, with no family around, no job, and no dough, he smugly concluded that she had no place else to go.
God knows she was weary of existing in this hell on earth; and I was tired of seeing her endure all that unbearable hurt. I had had enough of being terrified by that despicable monster, who had ruined her and made our lives an utter disaster. After convincing Mom that inevitably I’d suffer the same fate, one night, we finally escaped to a shelter before it was too late.
8-31-2015 *** (Note: Thank God, nothing like this ever happened to me. But this piece is dedicated to those many women and their children who are victims of domestic violence. According to Domestic Violence Statistics, around the world, at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime. Most often, the abuser is a member of her own family. Based on reports from 10 countries, between 55 percent and 95 percent of women, who had been physically abused by their partners, had never contacted non-governmental organizations, shelters, or the police for help.

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Wild Child

My past was violent.
My world was quaint.
They made me a demon,
instead of a saint.
My past was full of cruelty.
They called it love.
I only felt the darkness,
as they preached from above.
They said I was a sinner,
that I should change my ways.
Whilst I cried with fury,
I hoped, an end to my days.
They shackled my wrists,
and tried to warp my mind.
Telling me, in Gods love,
freedom I would find.
With pride and arrogance,
they did this to a child.
They tried to birth a sheep.
Born rather, an animal that is wild.

-Angel Fatale-

Copyright © Ryan Tyler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |

One Speaks Aloud

Soul stripped.

Flesh ripped. 

Hope lost.

Time moves on not heeding the cost.

Hurt buried aside in the ditch.

Anger flares like a flip of the switch.

Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.

Soul?  The soul dancing???  How cruel...

Mouth ajar in disbelief.  
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.

The beat of the soul continues...

Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.

Soul keeps dancing... 

Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger, 
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.

Mind perks up seeking to undermine...

Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.

The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...

"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.

Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...

The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.

The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"

Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!

Copyright © Farhana Akter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |


                                        Elegy to Child Lost

                                 Passion's love oft tempts despair
                                 Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
                                 Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
                                 Babe snug beneath a mother's breast

                                Senses at this time are keen
                                There's no secret kept between
                                Loving mother, wriggling babe--
                                Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
                                But entwined twin was also loved--
                                Some say Nature's method proves
                                That one twin may give all to mate---
                                But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.

                                Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
                                or sense those legs that wandered miles
                                And daring feet that danced in tunes while
                                Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.

                                When babe vanished--not  a sound.
                                Mother 's grief was not allowed.
                                Tempted so to trail behind
                                Escaping shattered troubled mind. 

                                Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
                                She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
                                Never spoke of-- never mourned.
                                By her husband she was warned
                                Was best forget a child so early lost--
                                Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--

                                But the years have called babe near,
                                Mother's journal writ in tears:
                                'Please forgive my selfish heart.
                                Repressed from all --this tragic part
                                I felt your sacrificial act--
                                You left your cherished twin intact'.

                                There is no law of random acts
                                Doctors examine data facts
                                It may be --that in the womb
                                When both spring flowers cannot bloom
                                One bold twin refrains to eat
                                Compels the other to complete
                                Hardy growth that life requires---
                                Sparks survival's crucial hours.

                                Not an accident 'tis sure--
                                Boldest spirits blossom pure.

Victoria Anderson-Throop ©

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Acrostic |


Temper so beastly, troublesome and wild
Anger quite disturbing which isn’t defined
Nuisance and discomfort suffered by loved ones
Two or thereabout, the usual age for this display
Rendering everyone around alert and agitated
Unnecessary hostility, care givers undeservedly face 
Markedly disappears with more years grown.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Poem for One Victim

On fringes of shadow, charred black of burnt night, 
she limps through the dimmest and cruelest of streets.
Huddled with her loss, body bruised and beat, 
Mama’s caked makeup tries hiding her fright.

Little girl of twelve pretends to be grown;
with tomorrow gone, she paints on red smile.
Bright lights flash cold eyes, wicked hearts defile;
all star-struck fresh thoughts are buried in moans.

An evil descends from man’s greed and scorn;
In dark suit and tie, an average, white face,
money for Mama, from far, west world place.
Screams pierce soiled mattress on hot, red-smeared morn.
From under tight ropes her stripped body bleeds;
recoiled in dried tears, she silently pleads.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Acrostic |

To the Victims of Violence

People sharing life together
Every country, every land
All of us are in this together
Created for goodness and love
Every life is precious

Only fear can cause this kind of evil
Nothing good comes from suffering on this scale

Every person: man, woman, and child 
All through the wide world should be able to 
Remember a time without violence or pain
Truly knowing what it means to be safe
Heaven knows it is long overdue.

Copyright © Michael Campbell | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Bombs explode.
Conflicts in night
CNN reports of terror. 
Lives being scrutinized
A blood bath
The colors are everywhere.
Scores of eyes look around scared.
The code is RED.

In desperation, stands a child.
His arm is bleeding.
He is begging for his life.
A blood bath lay before him.
His eyes are scared.
He hiccups and he was left there.

His colors of life are psychedelic.
He sees the code.
He freaks out.
He rolls around intoxicated.
He forgets for a moment himself.

A little girl hallucinates.
Her father and mother ran away.
They shouted to her, “Hide any place.
Your life with us is no longer safe.”
She seeks a hole under a shed.
The terrorist left her there.

The colors of life are a child’s demon.
In darkness, you can hear them scream.
Their parents give the code.
Once given, a child world becomes cold.

Infants are shot.
She died.
Her twin did not.
The terrorist left uninformed.
The clock ticked another baby's life - gone.

The colors of life are a child’s mourn.
They lives are forsaken by those grown.
In time of trouble, they must take care of home.
The colors of life are obligatory.
The code is BLOOD.

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |

Stabbing Such Innocence

Illicit act in a terrible hire boundary of age, not taken with respect innocence of this being yet to retire adult mind, considering a bad prospect affection on this account comes with fire even when sweet, good is in no aspect strength of morals, reaching a point to tire the lamb becomes a beast when you least expect a criminal act even with a permit mindset of the minor turning tropical into future living, the feeling transmit a heart with bad memories becomes vocal a silent torture still commands a submit biting others, thinking its reciprocal

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |


In her home I suffer,
Rationed food and rationed wood,
Bread slices and rationed butter,
Scorns and all the words they utter,
Are some deepest of secrets you won't hear.

For I take that only form,
Of a lost child in my own home,
Assuming this has been the only norm,
Of having water and a plate of corn.

Her eldest kid sits by me and asks,
Do you have anything you own,
No, I say with a little frown,
Do you have parents,
No, they are long gone.
Do we do you bad,
No, I say.

Copyright © hudhaifah siyad | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose |

Innocent Elevator

As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I 
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But 
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden 
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the 
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most 
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little 
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no 
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before 
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the 
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way 
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two 
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the 
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as 
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors 
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I 
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could 
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my 
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and 
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors 
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost. 

Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you, 
curse you.

I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a 
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith 
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete 
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to 
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream, 
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself 
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind 
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no 
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of 
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by 
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent 
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front 
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim. 

My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I 

This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

The Domestic

An exit sign casts its red glow on steel doors that line the hallway,
Their numbers barely visible in its light, the only light.

From 302 comes the sound of conflict,
The loud voice of Anger and the muffled sobs of Despair.

A knock below the numbers mutes Anger and Despair,
Allowing the cries of Innocence to be heard.

Beyond the door, what remains of love watches from frames on a wall,
At its own inescapable demise.

And from a corner of the room, Innocence cries through guiltless eyes,
That are filled with fear and confusion.

Copyright © Jerry Troiano | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose |

'tis the child

Looking at your eyes, i can feel the pain in you. I don't know how to wipe those tears gone and coming but i know as they drop, some pain heals. Things have been tough and now they look even worse but please don't lose the light in you. Things will get better. Continue believing and surround yourself with good friends. Continue dreaming beyond this hurt for even in the cloudy skies there's a rainbow out there waiting to shine. Your small hands feel confused and in fear. But they also feel strong and confident to me. Keep believing little one. You will always be in my heart.

'tis the mother whose face she wishes not to show. Whose name she refuses to mention. She fears she has not done enough. She fears she cannot do more to save her children from the war and it's curse. The fruits of her labour ravaged. She clings on to the little hope believing in her and the little feet that follows her steps. Searching and seeking the right nest from which she can watch her children fly.

'tis the dad who feels like he has been stripped of his armour. He watches his family and the pain incapacitates him. He feels broken and is afraid of new sun. He knows with each new day, new suffering births and old suffering worsens. He wants green pastures for his family. He wants to protect his family from death and sickness. He wants safety. More than a nest but a home that is free but also well fenced from all the danger out there.

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Dear Dad

Dear Dad 				
Why don’t you love me? 
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
 then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me? 
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me? 
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me? 
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind, 
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?

Copyright © Jazmine Russell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |

Flowers And Front Porch Steps

Flowers and Front Porch Steps
I come from the painted front porch of my first house 
That is tainted with my laughter like the colors
It blooms in the summertime, like the weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk
That the kids used to pretend were flowers

Well eventually we realized that the flowers were indeed weeds.
And I come from the weeds that bloomed around our minds like the crowns we used to wear 
The vines that grew up and up and around
And the flowers that grew inside ourselves that withered away in the storm that destroyed our toy houses and cars 

I come from the drunken chant of my father through his blurry vision
And the whistling chorus of his whispers that shatter into shouts on that night in the snow
I pace my room back and forth trying to rewrite the chorus and learn the words by heart
Just to have a song to sing

The words come out right for the first time in my life and I hope to God it’s real this time
And I come from the voices that sang me to sleep every night despite him
That bloom like the flower weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk
And as I stand on the tainted and painted front porch of my first house 
It feels nice to be home.

Copyright © Hayley Abshear | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Bid thy to Slaughter Child, to Slaughter

In the august acclamations of weaponry
befits this uniform adorned 
and in prideful boast our livery
of arsenal upon the enemy scorned

From this distant seat shall reap dead carapace
the automata's bullet indulges no refugee
to warrant such requital in fitting disgrace
the cowards of deaths technology

Bid thy to slaughter my child, to slaughtered be
in renditions dark battalions
and gather fragile limbs splatter splintered trophy
behest accolades pinned medallions

Touch pad the joy stick of war games
reload the unflinching trigger
machine gun of anonymous names
ply the graves of the unknown soldier

Set cause to profit and property
and in soulless regalia execute
this pestilent act to defile humanity
so reaped upon this bloody scythes repute

For this distant throne still bids fears menace
with guided missile acquits accountability
shall bare no witness to rueful penance
of cowards whelped by deaths technology

Bid thy to slaughter then my child, and to slaughtered be 
in viscous deliverance either of these
dream thee not of honor or bravery
but in nightmares blade this evil appease

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Please don't hit me again

I'm begging you, please don't hit me again.
I'm not able to defend myself, I'm only ten.
Please don't hit me again, it hurts both physically and emotionally.
I don't deserve to be hit and if you were in my shoes, you'd agree.

My emotional scars can never be removed because of what you've done.
You've been a terrible father but I haven't been a terrible son.
Please don't hit me again, your blows bruise my body and make me bleed.
Being taken out of this house and put in a foster home is exactly what I need.

(Even though this is a fictional poem, many children are victims of child abuse. If you see a child being abused, please do what you can to stop it.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


We arrived, it was 7 a.m. 
Then I was just a small girl
I still don't know why it made her angry 
I will never know why 
She bashed my head into the sink
After undoing my braids 

My head was flooded into icy cold water
My body heated up with hatred and fear
The visuals of her yanking and scrubbing 
Remembering that nobody stood up for me

My cousins and sister
They watched tv in the other room
I was stripped naked, she was screaming
I was thrown into the shower

Still nobody stood up for me
And I always wondered 
Why my mom put it in my hair, did she forget 
How much my grandma hated hair spray? 

Late that night 
I should never have told my mother
From then on 
Every day I was only fed 
Chocolate donuts or fruit cocktail
My stomach still churns at the sight of either

Never will know why she did those things to me
She didn't do them to anyone else
I resented all of the the days that 
I was stuck with nowhere else to go
My mother couldn't afford a babysitter
And off I would go, sent to her regardless 

The irony is, I still wear hairspray
I love it, and not just because she hated it
I understand now
What I couldn't comprehend then 

Hairspray doesn't destruct 
Or tear people apart 
It is made to keep something in place
Unlike her it offers stability

I may never 
Eat certain foods again
And I may still cringe at times 
When I see a certain knob on a sink
But when I feel like it, I do have
One thing I do that makes me smile

I will stand infront of a mirror
Braiding my long tresses 
I smile and spray 

Copyright © Karissa Kelley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Burlesque |

Don't be Born

Don't be born 
Don't see the world 
The world is not beautiful as you think 
The world has changed from your last birth
They need your flesh not your cute smile
They don't listen to your giggles
They don't smile at you
They come for your flesh
Don't think your mother's womb is the safest in the world
Your mother is struggling to protect her life here
Don't come to this world
Don't come to your mother's womb
Don't be born 

Copyright © Jay Dev | Year Posted 2016

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |



Why am I so flippant yet complacent?

Hypocritical Martyr

Torture chamber – secret sub-basement

Bomb shelter        Pedophile aquarium

Abducted children raped half-dead

Migraines and Menstruating

Horrible highway ambiance

Static from a radio unaware

Of our new piece of world, our breath of new air

Almost caught so only kill their daughters instead

A farm for inbred rapists and prepubescence

Shattered psyche of victims to share

Till they pile into a mass grave dead.

And the blood from evil hands now to rinse.

Resent this road leading to nowhere.

Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

:You And Your Perfect Life:

You and Your Perfect Life.
You boast. 
Walking the halls like you're the host of this school. 
Well you're not.
You smile. 
Everyone lovingly despises you but they always wanna stop and talk awhile.
Well I won't.
You laugh. 
There's not a care in your world. You don't have it tough. 
Well I do.
You wink. 
At all the girls. I look at my self in the mirror, then aadd my tears to the bathroom sink. 
You don't.
I cry. 
I'm depressed and nobody cares because they want you with them and me to die. 
Well I can't.
I'm saying this to you. 
Because you don't deserve what you have. 
I'm saying this to you,
Because I deserve better.
You walk. 
Lazily not a care in the world or a worry in the mind. Fu*k. 
I want that.
You have a perfect life.
I don't. 
I have a sucky life. 
You don't. 
You are walking up to me, a frown on your face, now tainted with red. 
"You think I have a perfect life?"
"Yes. "
"Do you want to rethink that?" I look down on you wrists, seeing them clenched. 
I don't reply and you growl. 
Pulling me into an empty hall, you strip off your jacket. I pale at the thought of what you are going to do.
"Answer me. ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT(I am so sorry God)!!!!"
"Yes. You have a perfect life. Everyone loves you. " I yell so much more. 
I can't remember what I'm saying. 
I can't say I know what I'm saying. Anymore.
You pull of your t-shirt. 
I gasp. 

Red and dark purple bruises cover your body. 
Swollen and fresh scar marks cover your body.
You turn around. 
Deep red new gashes seem to devour your skin. 
Some are oozing blood and I feel sick. 
Scars thin like razor blades cover your upper arms.
The quote my mother told me before she died ran through my head.
Life isn't about avoiding the things that make you feel scared, or uncomfortable, it's about conquering them and moving forward.
Tears blur my eyes as I look back at him.
"Yes, Hope. I have the perfect life. Yes, Hope. Everybody loves me."
I shiver and slide down the wall I was leaning against. He squats down cradling my chin in his hand.
"Make sure smile once in awhile. It will change your life view."
You walk away. Leaving me there. Shivering.
You cry. 
At night when your father, the mayor is beating you. 
I'm here Aspen. Run away with me.

Copyright © Madelyn Nichols | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Somebody Hear Me

Blinded by experience & I mean lack of

Trapped in a neighbor-hood that feels like a cage

Isolated in my small room releasing tears & rage

Imagine life on the wrong side of a 9 or 12 gauge

Imagine momma getting money in shameful ways

Imagine me doing nothing wrong & getting beat for days

Imagine in the cabinets just sugar & Lay's

Imagine me only 10 wit more stress then grown men

Me born in this world thrown into sin

Imagine me wondering why my life is so different 

Other kids smile more why is my life so different

Clothes I don't have many & friends I have none

When Dad go to work all he takes is a gun

See Dad's not a solider & moms not a saint

I've seen good people so I know that they ain't

There just mom & dad 

I'm young & sad

Praying I get all the love I deserve and never had


Copyright © Ronald Johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |

UN report... invisible victims

...In my country children die... 
not of war...for soiling, their pants, they're beaten, until 
they stop breathing... 

...spiritual distance... 

...the forgotten on a file... 
the authorities in denial... 

...under the rug, is full... 

no one can save the tiny 

...not a shiny knight... 
not a parent, a friend... 
a neighbour no one here to defend, 

domestic war zone, family violence 
the authorities document report, 
file it under abuse statistic... 

...too hard basket, cycle of abuse 
runs wildly rampant... 

...with little recognition of their 
trauma entrapment... 

...the screams, the cries, no more 
mum! ...please no more dad! 

...the welts, go away, the feeling, 
the damage always stays... 

...cries fallen on deaf ears, 
...many don't care. 

Teletext Page 128 03 August 06 
...the UN reports, NZ child abuse 
slammed, our child agency under 
resourced, ad hoc small scale... 

...our childs lives, reveal an ugly 

UNICEF report claim domestic 
violence is common in NZ... 

...most people know a child who 
is witnessing violence in thier 
own home... 

the dark secret, of a family...with 
violent undertones... 

be aware, some one out there... 
take charge, if you suspect report 
don't neglect... 

don't turn your back, you could 
save a childs' life that's a fact... 

Copyright © Eileen R. Kelly | Year Posted 2007

Details | Verse |

I Didn't Mean To

I Didn’t Mean To

I didn’t mean to make you mad;
 the bruises will go away soon.
I didn’t mean to break the window, with the ball.
 My arm will heal in about six weeks.
I didn’t mean to walk in on you and your boyfriend in the bedroom.
 I thought you were alone.
The doctor said, I would heal in a few weeks,
 but he wanted to know who did this to me.
I wouldn’t tell him,
I love you unconditionally.

I didn’t mean to lie,
Why did you let him hurt me so bad?
Why did you let him just throw me away like 
I was a bag of trash over the side of the road?
My body is numb
My soul is no more.
I didn’t mean to,
My love was unconditionally for you.

Copyright © Tammy Carter | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |

Crimes Of Innocence

For what crimes
Are they being made
To suffer? 
Tell me! 

Tell me!  oh driver to the world
Why bring him forth
While within you lies the knowledge 
Of the crimes he committed not? 

Confess to the world 
Oh carrier of the unheavy burden, 
How huge a crime 
Is being innocent. 

Please say, 
What you know of the crimes
Of newness and pureness
And innocence and freshness. 

Mother they call you. 
Nay, Murderer you are! 
Why summon he whose presence
You despise in wicked essence? 

So I ask again! 
For what crimes 
Are they paying 
This heavy price

Of abandonment
Of Starvation
Of denial 
Of abuse? 

For what crimes 
Are they being punished
In madness and cruelty 
While you decide their fate over tea. 

For what crime 
Was he dumped in a bag? 
Why did you leave her hanging down that rail? 
Why did you scar him so bad? 
Why drop his form in that sewer? 
While he's almost as big as you were
When you were brought forth 
To this world
Where you've grown to be inhumane. 

Why oh why!
Oh murderous mother! 
And you treacherous father! 
What crimes do you kill them for? Tell Me! 


Copyright © Mar'yam Thaoban | Year Posted 2017

Details | Narrative |

A World of Shame and Neglect

The little child was born into a home of violence and abuse.
      Sadness was the closest thing to love and that was no excuse.
A little child screaming as his mother gets slapped and tossed all around,
     While his worthless father struts thinking he is something he is quite profound.
The little children with ragged clothes and snotty noses just stood there in tears,
      What an impression this father has made for them through the years.
We live in a monkey see monkey do get messed up society,
     Most of the children grew up watching their parents fighting never knowing 
 Alcohol or drugs, seemed to dominate most of the poor.
     The thing they didn’t realize this was only a temporary escape door.
The pain that was eased only led to more grief.
      Till violence took over in the name of relief.
 The daddy was loaded up paying the bills, food, utilities and rent,
      While momma stayed home pregnant and got fussed at for the money she 
They had sunk so low they were ashamed to attend any church,
      Afraid that the pastor might point them out as he stood on his perch.
What is the answer if any to this little tale of mine,
       How can we make it stop, can we ever draw a line.
 I do know that hate begets hate so could love be the key?
       Has anyone ever tried it long enough to truly find the answer of this I  would 
love to see.
All of my life I have heard do unto others as you would have them do unto you,
        Such a simple answer could this be all we need to do?
Think About It!!!

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |

When I First Saw You

I am writing a novel, or biofiction, 'The Girl at the Rest Stop.' It's about a young girl who was abandoned, rescued by a man, and eventually adopted by the man and his wife. I use poems on the pages between chapters; the poems are pertinent to the chapter that follows. 

When I First Saw You By Els Worth When I first saw you sitting there. Under a big pile of tangled hair, I didn’t quite know what to think, But, oh my God, how you did stink. You looked so sad and very lonely, Even tho’ you were so comely. You seemed afraid to talk to me, But your pain was very easy to see. When I looked into your eyes, Therein I saw the fear that lies. I know you wished that I be gone But I’m sure you’ve been alone too long. Although I stopped to take a break I never thought a friend I’d make. I wanted you to go with me, To meet my wife down by the sea.

Copyright © Els Worth | Year Posted 2017

Details | ABC |

Child of Unknown Father

Before the birth of fatherless children
Life was good, the land was peaceful
To the field we went happily
Children knew and played with fathers
Peace died because war was awful
To unlivable areas women fled unhappily

Fathers taken as war hostages
Evils of sickness, hunger and thirst we endured
In our hideouts, the worst of evils was war rape
Unknown gunmen made us impregnated
Fatherless children we delivered
Children of mothers they are 

Community hates this for man decides
On him, mother and child depend
Wordless the mother is, and so the child becomes
Unhappily and unfreely the child grows
He cannot play with his unknown dad
So shame builds on him, as no father he has

We never decided to bear a child in impurity
Who will never be at harmony
And whose life and education are risky
For he is fatherless and family ignominy 
Ultimately, mother and child need basic rights 
For they both are victims of their innocence

Poem by Mugisho N Theophile

Copyright © Mugisho Theophile | Year Posted 2017